


Midday Donuts: Collegeville Stories

by ineamare



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Donuts, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 19:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11675889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineamare/pseuds/ineamare
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki works in his parents' donut shop, serving both the regular locals and the passing students of the nearby university. Each month brings a new special donut and new faces in the shop. Although it's hard for him to wake up early, it's worth it when each day is a new adventure. Inspired by Midnight Diner.  Updates on the 1st of every month.





	1. Maple Bacon

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Yuri on Ice.
> 
> Inspired by the customers I served during my shifts at the donut shop in a college town (but the events in this story are fictional).

It’s hard to force himself out of bed so early in the morning, but if Yuuri Katsuki wants the donut shop to be ready for customers at eight, then he has to make sure to turn on the fryer at seven. He sighs, bleary-eyed, and sits up in bed, pushing his glasses onto his face with his entire palm before forcing himself up off of the mattress with both hands. He dresses and readies himself quickly because, between the mess and the smell of the fryer, it isn’t worth being so meticulous. Besides, it means that he can spend the last precious moments of the breezy August morning over coffee with the singing birds before the heat and the customers settle in for the day.

He leaves his apartment quietly to avoid waking his roommate and walks the two blocks to the donut shop. He trudges through dewy, unmowed grass because he sat with the birds just a moment too long; nevertheless, he’s unlocking the shop door at seven on the dot. Before even turning on the lights, the first thing Yuuri does is turn on the fryer. The gas doesn’t usually light on the first try, but today, it does. Before he forgets, he changes the “Donut of the Month” sign from “Orange Dreamsicle” to “Maple Bacon” and props open the door for the milkman, whose truck is pulling up out front. 

“Good morning, Takeshi,” Yuuri smiles as the broad-shouldered man comes around the counter to collect crates full of empty milk bottles. Yuuri has known Takeshi for his entire life, but it always feels a bit different talking to him in a work setting, casual though it may be.

“Mornin’, Yuuri!” His wide grin lights up the room as he pokes a finger into Yuuri’s side. “Been hitting the donuts since you came home from college, huh? Save some for the customers, why don’t you?”

Yuuri laughs, knowing that the comment isn’t meant to be malicious, but can’t help feeling a tinge of embarrassment. It is true, maybe he has eaten a few too many donuts since graduating and returning home, but he’s been feeling a bit lost with whether to go to grad school or find a job, and it wasn’t like his family couldn’t use the help around the shop. “Maybe I’ll come help out around the dairy again. That’ll surely burn the calories.”

Takeshi claps him on the back jovially. “Of course! And Yuuko and the girls will be happy to see you again.”

“Ah, of course.” Even though he’s been back in Collegeville since May, he has only seen the Nishigoris a handful of times outside of work. 

“Well, anyway, I’ll let you get back to your preparations.” Takeshi puts the milk crates on a dolly and wheels them to the door. “Just remember that you’re always welcome with us.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri replies, heading over to the fridge to see what needs restocking. He writes down the order and hands it to Takeshi, who stocks butter and bottles of milk and cream according to the list and calculates the bill. Yuuri writes the check and bids him a fond farewell before heading to the cooler behind the counter. He tops off the levels of icing, toppings, and drizzles, then checks the time. Fifteen minutes left, he thinks, using the remaining time to mix donut batter, prepare coffee, and take the chairs off of the tables before unlocking the door and turning on the open sign.

The summer months usually aren’t as busy as the school year, and especially now that the summer semester is ending and the fall semester has yet to begin, Yuuri isn’t expecting to have many customers besides some of the regulars and townsfolk who know the milk is delivered every Wednesday. He busies himself with stamping the Midday Donut Shop logo onto donut boxes and paper bags as he waits for the bell over the door to tinkle.

As expected, his first customer is Yakov, who always stops in for his morning coffee on the way to opening the sporting goods store he owns a couple of streets over. While he and Yuuri don’t ever exchange more than a few words, the young, bespectacled man would sorely miss the sound of Yakov stirring his medium coffee at his usual table in the back, rustling his newspaper now and again. He finishes up his drink and gives Yuuri a nod before going on his way. 

Yuuri sells milk to a number of people, placing the empty glasses they bring back in crates under the counter. So far, he has only made about a dozen donuts total, but as noon approaches, the number of customers picks up, as per usual. A steady stream of high-schoolers on vacation, summer semester students, and workers on break stop in for their fried delights, and while Yuuri doesn’t find himself overwhelmed, he does notice that he doesn’t have to stop the conveyor belt on the fryer like he usually does. For the first time in weeks, Yuuri has to wonder if he should close early for lack of batter. With one hour left until closing, it certainly isn’t worth it to mix even a half batch, knowing that it wouldn’t sell, but there was probably only about a dozen or so donuts worth of batter left for the day. 

As it turns out, it was wise not to mix more; the door doesn’t open again until 1:30, when a blue-eyed, grey-haired man steps in, brushing his long bangs out of his face. He approaches the register with a heart-shaped grin, placing the newspaper that had been tucked under his arm down on the counter. Yuuri can’t help but blush, having his idol appear in front of him so spontaneously at his parents’ donut shop in a rural college town, of all places. Not that he would remember, but Yuuri had very briefly met Victor Nikiforov at a conference that past spring where he and his classmates presented their senior projects. In fact, Victor is the entire reason Yuuri had decided to study literature at all.

“Hello!” Yuuri stutters cheerfully. “How can I help you today?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone, but I have some time,” Victor says. “Is there anything you would recommend?” 

“Well, we have a new donut of the month; it’s maple icing with bacon bits and chocolate drizzle.”

“Really? Is that good?”

Yuuri nods. “It sounds a bit strange, but a lot of customers voted for it last month, so we chose it.”

“Okay, I’ll take one.” Victor reaches into his pocket as Yuuri presses a couple of buttons on the register.

“Ninety-five cents, please,” he says, holding out his hand as Victor presses four quarters into it. “Thank you.” He taps the screen a couple more times and throws the change into the drawer, handing a nickel back to Victor, who promptly tosses it into the tip cup. “Thank you,” Yuuri repeats, flipping the switch on the fryer so that a donut drops into the oil. He slides the ticket into the groove on the rack, although he’s unlikely to forget it, and opens up the doors on the cooler, stirring up the maple icing so that it sticks to the donut more easily. As he grabs a pair of gloves from under the counter, he notices Victor leaning on the counter on his elbow.

“Yuuri,” the grey-haired man says suddenly, “you’ve gained a lot of weight since the conference, haven’t you?”

Yuuri turns red from head to toe. “Maybe a bit, but only because my parents have been spoiling me all summer.” Among other things, he is floored that Victor remembers him at all. They’d really only shaken hands after being introduced to each other by Dr. Cialdini. “Now that I have a place of my own, I can have more say in my meals.” Only a week earlier, Yuuri had signed a lease with his best friend, Phichit.

“Aren’t you a dancer, Yuuri?” Victor drums his fingertips on the counter just once. “You should keep up your physique.”

Barely over his first blush of embarrassment, Yuuri feels his face heating up again. “How did you know that?” He’s interrupted by the sound of the donut rolling off the conveyor belt into the rotator. Although it’s still steaming, Yuuri grabs it with a gloved hand and plops it into the maple frosting, where he lets it sit for a moment before pulling it out with a twist and dipping it into the container of bacon bits. He places the nearly-done donut onto a small plate before removing his gloves and squeezing a pretty design onto the donut with fudge sauce. He smiles, handing the plate to Victor.

Yuuri concentrates so hard on making a perfect donut that he doesn’t remember Victor’s comment, and Victor doesn’t bring it back up as he accepts the plate. “Wow! It looks amazing.”

“You can have a seat, if you’d like,” Yuuri says, gesturing to his right, where there are two stools at the counter and four tables on the wall. He watches as Victor decides to sit at the counter next to the coffee urns. Without even realizing it, Yuuri is holding his breath nervously as Victor takes his first bite. The older man’s eyes sparkle as the cakey donut melts in his mouth. “Vkusno!” he exclaims, putting a fist on the counter. 

“You like it?” Yuuri asks, unsure of what the meaning of the word is. Victor nods vigorously, and Yuuri’s shoulders sink in relief, a soft smile gracing his face. “Good! I’m glad,” he sighs happily, and Yuuri doesn’t notice, but it turns Victor’s cheeks pink.

Yuuri hears a noise from the back of the shop, and turns his head to see his sister Mari in the doorway. “Hey, Yuuri,” she says. Her eyes turn to Victor. “Are you the one here about the available apartment upstairs?”

Yuuri’s eyes widen as Victor swivels his stool to face her, the heels of his feet together and his knees spread, between which his hands grip the edge of the seat. “Yes! I’m Victor Nikiforov.”

“Huh?” Yuuri’s hands hit the counter, his palms flat against the cool surface. “You’re moving in here?”

“Yes,” Victor replies happily. “Starting this month, I’ll be studying at the university for my doctorate’s!”

Yuuri can’t help but wonder how working at a small donut shop turns each day into an adventure.


	2. Apple Crisp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Yuri on Ice.

Yuuri has never been a morning person, but if he wants the donut shop to be ready for customers at eight, then he has to make sure to turn on the fryer at seven.  He sighs, bleary-eyed, and sits up in bed, pushing his glasses onto his face with his entire palm before forcing himself up off of the mattress with both hands.  He dresses and readies himself quickly because, between the mess and the smell of the fryer, it isn’t worth tending to every last detail.  Besides, it means that he can spend the last precious moments of the cool September morning breathing in the scent of freshly mown grass before he’s left with only the smell of frying dough.

He leaves his apartment quietly, so as not to wake his roommate, and walks the two blocks to the donut shop.  His sneakers shuffle across the sidewalk because today he hasn’t dallied too long; as always, he’s unlocking the shop door at seven on the dot.  Before even turning on the lights, the first thing Yuuri does is turn on the fryer.  On Saturdays, it’s even more important than ever that he gets the fryer going on time, since it’s their busiest day of the week.  Today it takes three tries to light the gas, and although he won’t know for sure until the shortening has re-melted, he suspects that the oil level won’t be high enough and that he’ll have to add more.  Before he forgets, he changes the “Donut of the Month” sign from “Maple Bacon” to “Apple Crisp” and starts on the first batch of apple icing.  Every year, their apple donuts are so popular that he knows he’ll probably have to make a new batch the next morning as well.  He tops off the rest of the bins and bottles in the cooler, then checks the time.  

_ Twenty-five minutes left _ , he thinks, using the remaining time to arrange the milk in the refrigerator, mix donut batter, prepare coffee, and take the chairs off of the tables before unlocking the door and turning on the open sign.  The atmosphere in the shop is a little bit warmer now that Yuuri plays music softly in the background; it was Victor’s suggestion, and while Yuuri was at first nervous that it would be difficult to hear customers between the music, the exhaust fan, and the other sounds of the kitchen, he is delighted that it hasn’t caused any problems, and the customers seem to really enjoy it.

Now that the semester is back in full swing, Yuuri has no shortage of customers and finds himself needing to brew more coffee and whip up some more batter around ten.  Luckily, his sister Mari always works alongside him on weekend afternoons—it’s just too much for one person to handle.  She comes downstairs from the apartment she shares with their parents just as Yuuri grabs the batter bucket and takes it from him, telling him to attend to the three customers who have just entered.

Yuuri turns to see that Victor is standing before the chalkboard; beside him stood a sunny, green-eyed man with a mess of blond curls sitting atop a brown undercut and a dark-haired, broody-looking man with deep blue eyes.  They chat quietly amongst themselves, pointing toward flavors on the chalkboard.  Yuuri takes this moment, feeling unnoticed, to admire the way Victor’s bangs fall into his eyes—not the stormy, jewel-toned blue of the man beside him, but a soft, bright blue, like the sky on a bright winter day.  Suddenly, those eyes turn to meet his, and Yuuri stands up a bit straighter, hitting the button on the register to start a new sale.

“Yuuri,” Victor purrs, his lips stretching into a smile, those eyes crinkling around the edges, “what would you recommend today?”

“Hm,” Yuuri starts, feigning being in thought because in reality he’s just trying to catch his breath, “well, the donut of the month has changed to Apple Crisp.  It has apple-cinnamon frosting topped with graham cracker crumbs and a caramel drizzle.”

“Wow!  That sounds even more delicious than last month’s.”  Victor turns to his friends.  “What do you think, Georgi?  Christophe?”

Yuuri isn’t really sure which man is which, but the blond man nods enthusiastically in response to Victor’s suggestion, while the brunette says, his voice deeper than Yuuri expects, “Death By Chocolate, please.”

“Okay, so two Apple Crisp and one Death By Chocolate.”  Yuuri presses some buttons on the register’s screen: one DBC and two specials.  “Anything else for you three today?”  Three answers came almost simultaneously, but Yuuri is used to dealing with things like that by now.  “Small coffee, apple juice, and whole milk,” he repeats to confirm the order before pressing the corresponding areas of the touch screen.  “That comes to seven dollars and seventy-four cents, please.”  Victor reaches into his wallet and hands Yuuri a ten with a smile so charming that Yuuri has to look away.  The cash drawer opens, and Yuuri fumbles with change, picking up a quarter, a penny, and two dollar bills, pressing the coins first into Victor’s open palm, followed by the bills.  “Two twenty-six is your change.”

“Thank you,” Victor replies, placing one dollar in his wallet and folding one into the tip jar.  He opens his hand over the mouth of the jar and lets the change fall into it with that familiar clink.  

“Thank you,” Yuuri sings in response to the sound of change hitting the bottom of the glass, his back already turned away from the men and toward the fryer.  He lets three donuts plop into the oil before turning back to them, placing a small cup on the counter.  “Coffee’s there,” he points out, “cream is in the fridge.  Help yourself.”

As the blond man busies himself with the coffee and the brunette heads to the fridge, Victor puts his elbows down and leans over the front counter, where Yuuri is watching the fryer.  “Should I take them upstairs?  I was hoping we could stay,” he said, his eyes moving over the wall of tables, “but you seem to be very busy.”

Yuuri shrugs, glancing over at the other man with only his eyes, his chest still facing the fryer.  “If you’d like to go, I can box them up.  But, if you’d like to stay, I have an extra stool in the back.  You three are welcome at the side counter.”

Victor’s tiny pout flips upside down and he acts as if he’s pleasantly surprised, chiming, “That would be lovely!”  Yuuri isn’t really fooled, hiding his smirk as he walks toward the back of the restaurant to retrieve the extra seat.  He knows that Victor fully expected to get his way.

As Yuuri disappears into the back room, Victor waves Georgi and Chris over to the counter and perches himself on one of the stools.  Georgi sits with his juice, handing the milk container to Victor, and takes the seat to his left.  Chris stirs his coffee with a knowing smile.  “So, that’s him?”

Victor doesn’t reply with more than a smile as Yuuri returns, placing the stool at the clean, clear spot of the counter to the grey-haired man’s right.  “Here you are,” Yuuri says with smile, then heads back to the fryer just as the donuts are falling into the rotator.  Mari had been kind enough to lay out three paper plates for him before attending to a few new customers, so all he has to do is slip on a glove and get to work; he goes through the process in his head: apple, graham; apple, graham; chocolate, chocolate cookies.  He drizzles neat zig-zags on each in caramel and chocolate, then turns to the three men sitting at the counter, placing the apple donuts in front of Victor and the blond—Yuuri still isn’t sure which name is his—and has to spin around once more to retrieve the chocolate donut and place it in front of the last man, directing a bright smile toward him.  “Enjoy,” he says, anxiously awaiting Victor’s response, although he’s too scared to look at him, so he misses that Victor is pouting.  Yuuri’s smile should always be pointed at him, after all.  “Let me know if I can get you anything else,” Yuuri adds.

Victor’s mouth opens to speak, but Chris lays a hand on his shoulder and smiles sweetly at Yuuri.  “We’re fine, thank you.”  Yuuri nods in response and rejoins Mari as even more customers pile in.  It’s non-stop, and Yuuri has barely any time to think about Victor and his mysterious friends for quite a long time.  In fact, by the time he notices that the three are no longer sitting at the counter, it’s already nearing closing time.

“Yuuri, why don’t you have a break for lunch?” Mari suggests.  “You can head upstairs until close and come back to help clean.”

Yuuri is about to say no when his stomach grumbles loudly.  “Actually, that sounds like a good idea.  Thanks.”  He should really visit his parents more often, anyway, especially considering how near they live to each other.  He opens their apartment door with his copied key and announces himself loud enough to be heard in all the rooms.  “Mom!  Dad!  I’m home!”

“Yuuri!”  His parents come skipping in from one room or another.  “What a surprise,” his mother says.

“Mari sent me up for lunch,” he explains, leaving his shoes at the door.

“What are you in the mood for?  Do you have time for some katsudon?”  His mother is running to the kitchen as she speaks.

“Mm.”  Yuuri could hardly turn that down.

“If you’re hungry, Yuuri,” comes the purr in his ear, sending chills up the dark-haired man’s spine, “you could always stop by mine.”  

“Victor!” the three Katsukis exclaim at the same time, although Yuuri is less excited and more startled.

As Yuuri whirls around to face him, Victor grins, his eyes closed and hand in front of his mouth.  “Sorry to intrude.  The door was open.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Mr. Katsuki says, beaming.  “What can we do for our favorite tenant?”

“Your  _ only _ tenant,” Yuuri interjects.

Victor is still standing much too close to Yuuri when he responds, resting his hand on the shorter man’s shoulder,  “Could I have a little sugar?”

Yuuri blushes and crosses quickly into the kitchen.  “I’ll find you some.”

Victor tries his best not to look put out in front of the Katsukis.  “I know I’ve already been here a month, but it seems that I just keep forgetting to pick basic things up from the store until I’m in need.”

Mrs. Katsuki waves her hand.  “We meant it, when we said you’re welcome anytime.  Whatever you need!”

"I could use your help with something else, actually," Victor responds, lowering his voice as he watches Yuuri reach up for the container of sugar in the other room.  "I'm working on a piece for my studies, and it would be a great help to understand what it's like to go to work and have a regular job."  He smiles brightly, continuing with a clap of his hands, "Sadly, I've never had to work a day in my life.  And I was hoping that, if there's room, I could help out around the shop?"

"If that's what you'd like, that would be wonderful!  We've been thinking of expanding our hours a little bit, and having another employee would help us do that," Mr. Katsuki says.  "If you're sure you want to work in our little restaurant?  Surely there are better places."

"Not at all!" Victor asserts as Yuuri returns with a small container of sugar.  "I would love nothing more than to work downstairs!"

"Huh?"  Yuuri wonders if his ears are deceiving him, but his mother seems to confirm what is being said.  

"Then it's settled!  Yuuri, you'll be working with Victor from now on!"

Yuuri can’t help but wonder how working at a small donut shop turns each day into an adventure.


End file.
